The Chronicle of Abaddon
by Shin-chan1
Summary: In the Beginning of the world, the End has been created. And in the center of all this chaos are the five people who hold in their hands the fate of total destruction or co-habitation of our race. Vampire fic. 2x1, 4x3, 5xM, 5x13
1. Chapter Titles

This is my first attempt at an AU fic ever, thanks to my great obsession with the unreal. I honestly hope that it doesn't suck. So, constructive comments and suggestions would be very welcome as I am of a very sensitive psyche to take much more than that. (Yeah right!)  
  
On to those that really matter.  
  
Warnings:  
  
Dark and serious (I hope) With 21, 43 in later parts (and I do mean later as they don't all show in the first few chapters) and a little of 5Meiran/513.  
  
Disclaimers:  
  
No, I do not in any way or form own the pilots of Gundam Wing, and basically anything in their universe. I AM merely borrowing them, through no profit of mine, for the sake of my sanity. I am merely a college undergraduate student, hence I barely have things I can truly call my own. You know the rule against those things. You can't sue what you can't get. $o$  
  
I also borrowed some names from the Jewish and Hindu religions, with most coming from the Catholic bible I had scourged through. - I meant no harm by doing this, nor do I intend to insult or take lightly any religion. As a matter of fact, I respect them greatly, but I did find it appropriate to use in the fic. So, I apologize in advance for any wrong religious ideas you may get out of this.

Notes:

This story would be confusing in many parts. (Heck they even confuse me!) But if you are willing to give me a chance to explain (in the footnotes or the next parts) hopefully they will get cleared up. However, feel free to mail me or question me if you really do not get some things.

Also, in the light of clearing more things up, I have decided to post in this first part (meaning right after you scroll through this) the list of all my chapters, to avoid any confusion as to where I am already in my story. I have recently realized that given the current format of and the fact that I have no homepage, it might be hard for the readers to get my chapter arrangements. As I progress through my story, the subchapters of each main chapter will get updated here. Hope this makes things easier.

Main title: The Chronicle of Abaddon

Arc I: First Blood

Prologue

First Seal: Patriarchs earliest Fathers

[Identification of the Mark]

Mark of Destruction

Mark of Death

Mark of Tears

Mark of Laughter

Mark of Ancients

Mark of Pain

Second Seal: Magisterium the Tradition

[The Seven Scrolls]

Clan of Ephesus

Clan of Smyrna

Clan of Pergamum

Clan of Thyatira

Clan of Sardis

Clan of Alasehir

Clan of Laodicea

Third Seal: Scelestum Guilt

[Blood Lust]

Arc II: The Second Truth

Fourth Seal: Genesis new Beginnings

[In the Beginning is Our End]

Fifth Seal: Quelle the Source

[Darkness of a Wandering Soul]

Sixth Seal: Apocrypha Hidden Secret

[Inner Conflict]

Seventh Seal: Septuagint Seventy Days

[On the Seventh Day, the Lord rested]

That's all. (Whew! Anyone still there?)


	2. Prologue

  
  
_[In the Beginning, the End had a name]_

Prologue ---  
  
"In the beginning was the Word,  
  
and the Word was with God,  
  
and the Word was God."  
  
- Jn 1:1  
  
Darkness. That was all there was to it. Nothingness.  
  
The emptiness that clouded over one's senses, slowly choking him until nothing is once more left to it. A terrifying feeling, a terrifying thought.  
  
No one had ever survived such harsh conditions; yet, tonight, as was in the beginning, someone had come to overcome it. To finally break through that irrepressible barrier that had taken its toll upon so many of its victims.  
  
His name was Apollyon, the first of Abaddon [1]. The Destroyer made out of nothing but destruction who, upon having been birthed at such an impossible place, had destroyed his only home and gave a brief glimpse of hope and redemption towards a humanity he was destined to kill, saving his few chosen ones only by killing them first, only to rise again and fulfill the prophecy that has been laid out from the Beginning.  
  
Apollyon, the first and the last of Abaddon. The end of the Beginning and the beginning of the End.  
  
An irony within an irony.  
  
And thus began the first of his kind, the first of the Vampires.  
  
1. Apollyon - literally means in Hebrew "Destroyer" Abaddon - in Hebrew, "Destruction"


	3. Mark of Destruction

Note: I am going to start treading with religions here, so please don't kill me!  
  
The Chronicle of Abaddon  
  
--- First Blood ---  
  
The First Seal: Patriarchs  
  
the Earliest Fathers

[Identification of the Mark]

:::: Mark of Destruction ::::

Cold mist enveloped the poorly lit streets as the travelers headed towards the comfort of their own homes, seeking the warmth it would give them. Sightless eyes, all focused on their own goals swept by the milling crowd unseeing, as their feet seemed to hurry along a number of predetermined paths and determinedly wove a path for their owners.  
  
Soon, the cold would be unbearable, and the faster they moved away from its icy tendrils, the better. None found the need to concern themselves about matters that did not directly involve them at this point of the hour. Their safety was their priority and only that.  
  
In the almost panicked rush of the multitude, no one noticed the shivering form carefully wedged between an alley, as activity bustled alongside the little one's whimpers of need.  
  
"Amon."  
  
The soft whisper awoke a little figure with startlingly silver hair, glinting as pale as the moonlight that shone despite the thick fog that now blanketed the cobbled streets. It was deep in the night now, and the streets that had been previously full of life were deserted, giving the town an air of one that is abandoned, dead. Most were already safely inside their houses, sheltered from the cold only winter could bring. Only the insane would still be wandering around at this time, or the homeless, as the case was.  
  
In response, a man in his late thirties hobbled down to where his wife was curiously peering, only to find nothing but darkness and a heavy dankness about the place. A chill ran down his spine. There definitely was something in the air that night.  
  
Choosing to ignore his body's protests, he took a step closer and tried to see better. Having no such luck, Amon gave up and turned back to ask just what was so important about a pile of junk.  
  
"What is it, dear?"  
  
"Down there, look. To the right," came the hushed reply, as bony fingers trembling in fatigue and excitement both at once struggled to pinpoint her object of interest.  
  
Squinting his clear gray eyes towards the direction pointed out, the man was finally rewarded when he saw a bundle of what he originally thought as trash move. "Yes dear, I see it."  
  
Looking hopefully at each other for a brief moment, the older man shrugged to himself, and without saying a word, began to wade towards what they both prayed to be the answer to all their heartfelt desires. Winning against his brief struggle with various wastes that most had just left behind to rot and be swept away by the wind sometime in the future, he was finally able to scoop up the baby in his proud but weary arms. Giving a little smile of reassurance to his watching wife, he began to retract his original path until he cleared the darkness of the alley and was once more reunited with her hovering form.  
  
"Oh, Amon. It's. He's.. my God.", she whispered brokenly, overwhelmed by their sudden turnabout in luck.  
  
"Yes, Sarai. A child. He has finally answered our prayers.", her husband answered with an almost reverent awe in his voice.  
  
"Do you think we could."  
  
"His parents had left him alone to die, Sarai. We have every right to protect him and care for him as our own."  
  
"Oh, yes. How I wanted......... how much we wanted......... Can I......... hold him for a while? He's shivering, Amon."  
  
He readily handed her the infant, watching as she immediately bundled him up in her shabby cloak, sharing her body heat with him. Within moments, her weak but oddly comforting embrace to the child immediately ceased the severe wracking within the tiny frame.  
  
Humming a quiet lullaby she had once heard as a little girl, she rocked him slowly to sleep within her most treasured fold, completely mindless of everything but the precious infant she now held in her breast.  
  
"What do you think we should name him?"  
  
"Omri." [1] Came the abrupt reply. After a moment's thought, the newfound father thoughtfully added, "For he is the beginning of our happiness and the end of our longing."  
  
Sarai nodded in recognition, and they once more turned and walked away towards the place they called home, acting for all the world like nothing has changed their lives that fateful night, when deep in their hearts, they both knew that with their new child, everything had indeed been changed.  
  
Golden eyes that seemed too old to be within someone with such a young body closed in their slitted gaze, finally able to relax, knowing somehow that the two figures that now carried him, though scantily dressed and barely fed to be able to last them through the next day, would indeed take good care of him as they promised.  
  
And on that night, as the couple took in their home an abandoned child, Apollyon had finally been born.  
  
_"So the Lord put a mark on Cain, lest anyone should kill him at sight" - Genesis 4:15_A/N:  
1. Omri - in Hebrew means " life God has given" In a deeper sense, this also symbolizes a new beginning, the start of a new life.

For those who are reasonably confused: Apollyon would be his "real" or historical name, the name that was given him when he was first formed. Omri would be just his alias, or his human name. Back in those times, names hold a certain power over people. If you knew the real name of the person, then in essence you control him/her. That is why most people back then have many names. Makes introducing yourself a pain, no? -


	4. Mark of Death part 1

Finally! Some main GW characters showing up! It's about time, ne? Don't worry, the rest will eventually pop by. Eventually.........

(((Huge thanks to Memeal for all her constructive comments on this fic. You've really made my day, especially since you're the first to review in this fic. Thanks a bunch!!! I do hope I get to carry out your expectations and I certainly hope that all the thoughts that went into this is original! - I will try my best! Thanks again.)))

Anyway......... on to the show!

blah - shift of scene, people, time, etc.; a completely different story  
  
Note: I am going to start treading with religions here, so please don't kill me!  
  
The Chronicle of Abaddon  
  
--- First Blood ---  
  
The First Seal: Patriarchs  
  
the Earliest Fathers  
  
Identification of the Mark  
  
:::: Mark of Death ::::

"So the Lord put a mark on Cain, lest anyone should kill him at sight" - Genesis 4:15  
  
Sounds of stifled sobbing was what first led him to this place. Debris crunched underneath as he cautiously moved forward, eyes glancing from time to time to crevices that could very well hide potential thieves and murderers. This place was certainly well known for them, and while Omri knew he could very well protect himself, the lurking danger was still enough to caution him from being too bold and overconfident.  
  
Then, just as suddenly, the pale-skinned man stopped, head cocked thoughtfully as he tried to zero in on the source of the sound. He knew it was near, but something else kept on distracting him from finding out. Where -  
  
Golden eyes narrowed in the dim light, noticing that while he was preoccupied, much of the shadows had been moving erratically around him, as if to taunt him with their very presence. He could almost feel the mist of their breath, the pounding of their little hearts; hear the voices in their head, beckoning him. They were much closer now, so easily in position to attack him. Even the abandoned buildings around seemed to conspire against him, closing in, cutting him off; breathing his every breath, sucking out all but his very being until nothing but his senses remained, heightened and focused.  
  
A feral smile slowly formed on his face, frightening to those who knew him well enough. Yesss, he thought as he licked nearly-colorless lips in delight. This was the moment he had been waiting for.  
  
For years, he had starved himself, keeping a promise he gave to his parents - No. Foster parents - he fiercely corrected his thoughts. They were not his anymore. They hadn't been for the last three years, when they had finally died of starvation, leaving him alone once more. He had been too young then, still powerless to save them, even if they wanted it - which they didn't.  
  
They had known who he was - he couldn't really keep it from them especially as he grew older in his human body, with the need, the hunger, nearly driving him insane. But instead of shunning him, they grew even gentler, more loving and caring. They would give him fresh meat whenever they could, and allow him to hunt little animals on his own when they couldn't. But they always prevented him from seeking human flesh.  
  
"Killing", they had said, "is a great sin."  
  
Only out of his great love and respect for them, had he agreed, reluctantly promising to never seek that carnal desire of warm flesh, while deep inside, he knew that someday he would break his word. Killing, afterall, had always been part of his nature.  
  
So with great delight, he now found himself after his self-imposed starvation, in this darkened alley with boys nearly half his age, heart beating wildly, stomach growling almost continuously that for a moment he thought the others could hear it. His bright cat's-eyes were fully glazed with lust for the warm blood he knew was just underneath those frail skins. Afterall, even if he already had three years to cope with his endless hunger, seventeen years was still a long time to wait. And indeed, his hunger had been endless.  
  
And still, the tableau never broke. No one made a move against him even as time crawled sluggishly into half minutes.  
  
The howling of the wind, managed to rid him of his momentary madness, and slowly shaking his head, Omri silently berated himself for his loss of control.  
  
They were just children, shadows protecting their turf from outsiders. He had no right challenging them into something they were not yet capable of. He took a step forward, then another, and another. The shadows disappeared and the crumbling walls returned to normal with every step he took.

* * *

The sound of the flute drifted in the early morning, causing Arjun to wake rather pleasantly from a previous night of dreamless sleep. He looked up at the still-lightening sky, marveling it as always as it slowly welcomed the first of the sun's rays, shifting from deep blue to folds of brilliant sky blue, yellow, and even tinges of pink. He had always loved the rising of the sun. For him, it was a signal of a beautiful day, another chance of living life anew.  
  
"Meiran."  
  
Music stopped from flowing almost instantly as the holder of the wooden flute gently set it aside. And as it had always been, rather part of a tradition Arjun had grown used to by now, various animals ranging from the colorful birds that perched on branches, to lions that snuggled close to her, and even to the snakes that slithered at her heels, seemed to snap back to their own lives and roles in the wilderness. She had always been able to do that. A feat that her husband took pride on, even if she had no intent on boasting this special gift of hers to others.  
  
She can most certainly captivate any living creature be it a human being or an animal just by the simple act of playing her own type of music. Every being seemed intent to listen to her and whatever command she sends through her music, they immediately follow. She can paralyze any thought within her prey's body, and subject him to her every whim, though she had never taken advantage of this knowledge.  
  
Arjun shook off his early musings just in time to see her lean close to him, smiling what he noted was a very mischievous one. This immediately put him on his guard. Though seemingly gentle and out-spoken on the outside, Arjun knew better to realize that today, his young wife was feeling quite –playful- on the inside.  
  
From his peripheral vision, he took note of the other animals as they slowly made their way back to their own habitat, apparently disappointed that she had stopped her ritual earlier than usual.  
  
They were alone.

* * *

He had remained huddled in the little niche they had found earlier, shivering, tired, cold and wet, yet not daring to even move away from the damp place. Solo told him to stay there until he came along to fetch him. He wouldn't dare disobey that order. He knew that right outside his place was pure chaos. Only death would await him out there. But Solo knew that he would be safe in this place, that no one but him would find it, so he stayed put. He wouldn't get hurt here. He would be safe, just like Solo said. He trusted Solo. Solo knew everything.  
  
Then why wasn't he coming back?  
  
Solo always came back for him.  
  
He tried to smother another sniffle of fear, as a knot of pain twisted his stomach. It was a pain he had grown used to over the years, but it still hurt. He was hungry. And tired. And sleepy. And - and......... scared.  
  
No, Solo wouldn't leave him. He had promised, hadn't he? He would come back and everything would become the same all over again. He would laugh and joke and tease him for crying too much, and he would get angry at him again, then they would play and never be sad again.  
  
Why wasn't Solo coming back?  
  
He already missed him, and Jeb the trickster, and Lily, Marie, Joseph, Ralph, little Mei, Hanah and Tarah the twins, Dev, and Sister Helen, and Father Maxwell, and the orphanage, and the fruit stand that he always loved to steal from, and - and.  
  
He wanted to go back home.  
  
Where were they?  
  
Solo said that he would pick them all up and that they would move to another place, somewhere safer, where the police haven't rounded up all the strays yet. Then he would persuade Father Maxwell and Sister to go with them too, and they would be a happy family once again.  
  
He wanted that. He knew Solo wanted it too, and so did all the kids.  
  
So why were they taking so long?  
  
Was this all a trick? Did Jeb manage to convince Solo again to go with his plans and let them make a prank on him again? He smiled. Haha. That was it. They were just hiding from him. He's gonna get them all, and then he'll show them just exactly why he was the next leader.  
  
But he couldn't go out yet. There were still so many people outside, and he could even smell the smoke from somewhere quite near their place. Why was it taking so long to burn? He thought it had been going on for hours already. And why was it so loud over there? So many people shouting and screaming and crying over each other, that he knew Father Maxwell wouldn't approve and get mad at all of them if he knew how to.  
  
It wouldn't do him good to get captured that easy, while the others were laughing at his expense. He had to be careful. Solo said that these people were dangerous and he knew he would easily attract attention, coming out from where he was crouching now.  
  
He wanted it to end already.  
  
With another sniffle and shiver, he placed his forehead above his crossed arms and started mumbling silently for Solo to get him out of there soon. He would have prayed, but he kept forgetting the words that Sister Helen insisted he memorize.  
  
A couple more hours had passed, when he opened his eyes once again, yawning from the slight sleep he had been in. Everything was much quieter now, and the crowd had already left. Now Solo would come for him, together with their family.  
  
He self-consciously scrubbed his face, trying to clear the suspicious tear tracks that had managed to escape his eyes. Boys didn't cry. It had simply been the cold affecting him.  
  
Anytime now and he would hear his older friend's voice, with that soft accent of his mixed in with that humor that never seemed to leave him, assuring him that everything had turned out according to their plan.  
  
Yes, he could even hear the footsteps now, with that slight scuffling and shuffle as he avoided the things that littered the place. He crawled out of his temporary sanctuary, glad to be able to fully stretch again, ready to welcome.  
  
Mist had once again covered the entire place, and he frowned slightly. It wasn't that he had problems seeing in the dark, but something sounded odd in his ears. Those footsteps sounded heavier, and they clicked against the stones. Solo had always been quiet. They all had to learn to be one, unless they wanted to be discovered early on and caught before they even got anything. The one that was coming towards him wasn't Solo.  
  
He was just starting to crawl back, when he caught sight of the man and the slight figure that he was carrying in his arms. With a strangled gasp, completely forgetting all of Solo's warnings in the past to never approach anyone unarmed and to never trust those people, he ran towards the two, his eyes fixed on the slumped burden being carried.  
  
He could never fail to recognize that light blond hair that traveled to just past his shoulders, nor those liquid amber eyes that were squinted against some pain. Everything to his build and the clothes he wore definitely showed him to be Solo and no one else. His Solo. And he was injured.  
  
Those two thoughts were the only things running in his mind, as he cradled his nearly limp form, taking him from his savior with barely a glimpse back.  
  
"Solo? Solo. Solo!" He bravely kept his tears in check as he saw how torn and bloody his clothes were. He was practically bathed in his own blood, and his pale features only spoke further of his condition. "What-?"  
  
"Shh.little one."  
  
"Solo! Tell me what to do! There- there's blood. and- and I can't......... can't stop it-" He was trembling all over now, as his hands tried to staunch the gaping wound, which turned into a strangled sob as he saw a piece of wood still sticking out of his chest. To his utter amazement, his friend just smiled at his efforts and shook his head.  
  
"Hush. You gotta get movin' now, kid. There's no one left for you-", coughs racked his frame for a moment, before he continued on bravely, ignoring for the moment the frightened face of his charge. "-to. take care of."  
  
Widened eyes struggled to comprehend the meaning of those words, before he remembered those godawful screams and smells near the-  
  
The church!  
  
"Noooo.no! No! No! No! You're lying! You must be lying! It isn't true, Solo, right? It's just. It's just." Of course it wasn't a joke. Nothing was a joke anymore. It was reality.  
  
Bloody hands, cold hands covered his for a moment, making him realize that he had been gripping too tightly shoulders that now seemed so frail under him. Then they slowly traveled upwards past his still-quivering lips to eyes that were now round and full of unshed tears.  
  
As if finishing a masterpiece, he gently swiped it to gather a drop of moisture that fell unbidden, then dropped it to his side once more, as if it took all of his strength to lift it just for a moment.  
  
"Promise me kid- promise me you'll. live. and be strong for." More mumbles, too incoherent and too soft to be heard passed, before luminous eyes looked at the young one's bright eyes, begging him to understand.  
  
Then seemingly satisfied with what he found there, the youth gave a soft sigh, and amber eyes that once help that spark of life and laughter dimmed and faded away. No sound of distress had ever been uttered to mark the peaceful passing of one's dear, and if one looked at his handsome young face, for a while it would seem that he had just fallen asleep.  
  
But to the one he left behind, turmoil and distress are all that is felt. Tears that he had been holding were finally released from its depths, and with an anguished wail of one that has lost everything, he mourned not only the death of his best friend and leader, but of all that he once knew and cherished. Of his friends and companions, of his guide and of parents he had hoped them to be to him someday, of his home. Duo Maxwell mourned for his life and for all that he had a chance to be but was never allowed to happen.  
  
On that forlorn alley shrouded in the dark, all that could be heard were his cries. 1

* * *

Arjun lovingly stroked with one hand the cascade of black hair that was carelessly splayed across his chest, while his other hand reached for the rest of the body that he knew was snuggled by his side, and pulled her sleeping form closer to him in a half embrace. It was indeed a beautiful morning and he would have been content to just lie there and while away the rest of the day in peace.  
  
However, just as he was relishing the merits of that particular idea, he felt Meiran stir awake, long lashes fluttering softly against his skin as they opened to reveal twin dark pools of fathomless depth. Then again, just as he was thinking on how good it would be to just drown in them, his companion lightly nudged him in the ribs.  
  
"What?"  
  
He burrowed deeper in the soft covers, turning to his side to be able to tighten his hold on his wife, ignoring her feeble attempts of protest. With a sigh, he closed obsidian eyes very much the same as the ones he had been staring into, and prepared to go to slumber once more. He was stopped from drifting off by another elbow nailing him in the stomach.  
  
His "What?" this time came out as a grunt.  
  
"I need to go."  
  
"Later," came the mumbled reply.  
  
"Now."  
  
"Hmmm."  
  
" 'Fei!" 2  
  
Arjun was honestly considering getting some more sleep, when his mind finally sensed the urgency in his wife's tone. That thought clearing the last vestiges of fog from his mind, he immediately let go and allowed Meiran to stand up and walk towards the clearing she had earlier played in.  
  
Propping himself up with one arm, black shoulder-length hair falling out of his face allowing him a clear view of what was about to happen, Arjun patiently waited for him to arrive. Past experience had already shown him what to expect when his wife was acting in that manner. He didn't even bother trying to hide his nakedness - it wasn't as if he hadn't seen both of them in similar situations more times than he would want to count. Besides, trivial manners of clothing were not reason enough for him to pass up the opportunity of seeing Krishna 3 again.  
  
Krishna was, for lack of a better term to use, their clan's guardian. He was their god and they followed in his footsteps, and in return he warns them of incoming dangers, and listens to them. But of course, their relationship with him was much deeper than that. Unlike others, he did not abuse his power over them; rather he used it for the benefit of most. And they were not simply puppets that exist to grovel and serve. They thought for themselves, exerted their opinions and views, and lived as free men. In the end, it was a peaceful symbiotic relationship -one they actually respected.  
  
Arjun sat up higher, a light smile growing on his features as he saw the first tiny flickerings that surrounded Meiran, growing into a solid hue of blue, deep and crystal-clear at the same time. Krishna was coming, and though it would kill him to admit it, he actually liked the god, and enjoyed the moments they could spend together. He was honorable and had this glitter in his eyes that belied his great sense of humor and kindness.  
  
Though, he wondered as he always did, why the man liked to come at such inopportune moments.  
  
"Wufei."  
  
The soft, lilting voice effectively brought him out of his thoughts, making him realize that during that short amount of time of introspection, Krishna had already appeared. He looked up and met knowing, yet gentle sky- blue eyes.  
  
"You misunderstand," Arjun replied softly. "I am now referred to as Arjun. Chang Wufei is no more."  
  
Ever since his people had divined from the elder that he was to be the destined husband of Meiran, they had immediately and insistently cut him from all ties to his past. He was isolated, forbidden from training with weapons and even meeting with his family. The warrior line of the Chang family, his heritage and lineage had been methodically cleansed from him, in order to make him worthy of being near, much less touched intimately by the Avatar of their god. 4 Depraved from all contacts with the outside world, with his only solace books that his kindly caretaker had smuggled for him, he had grown bitter and lonely.  
  
When he had first met Meiran and through her, Krishna, he had hated them.  
  
Of course, the feeling did not last long. Animosity simply did not work for the two, and over time, their careful explanations and loving nature wore down on his defenses. It seemed impossible to feel anything but love towards them.  
  
Late at night, when sleep eluded him or he was simply just thinking, Wufei would silently thank those people who had forced him into this situation with all sincerity. While he had not forgotten his old life as a Chang, he was content and happy with his new one as Arjun, protector and life-mate to Meiran, second Avatar of the Lord Krishna.  
  
In the end, most had forgotten the boy he had been and freely referred to him as "Arjun". He had insisted it. Only Meiran he had allowed to call him by his real name.  
  
So why was Krishna referring to him as otherwise today? He seemed to like his new name before.  
  
Not breaking their locked gazes, the god slowly walked towards him, long brown hair swirling around him at his every move. Arjun watched, with a seemingly detached air as Meiran who had until now remained immobile, walked towards him as well, a solemn look on her face. He wondered again -for what seemed like the millionth time- how two beings who looked completely different from each other could look awfully similar at the same time. As a matter of fact, they were identical to everything but their appearance.  
  
Kneeling down in front of him, Krishna tenderly cupped his face, and softly brushed lips on his forehead, as Meiran settled by his side and encircled him in warm arms. Comforted, Arjun briefly slid his eyes close and leaned closer to them, allowing himself to wallow in the security they offered. Somehow, he knew that this would not last long, and tried to get as much of it as he could.

* * *

Omri watched impassively, letting the child mourn and cry to his heart's content. He was not worried about someone coming there to investigate the source of the sound this late in the night, if anyone even cared at all. It had been a tragic experience, and quite hard for someone so young to bear, and so he gave him enough time and space to try and put himself together.  
  
Though, as he watched the little one hug his friend's cool body closer to his, rocking and whispering promises and threats in his ear, he wondered if this one would still be able to. It was rare for a person to lose everyone he had ever loved in one stroke. And from his own experience, Omri knew that those who survived either quickly followed their family to the other side, or went insane with the effort. And they had been far older than the boy in front of him.  
  
And still the man waited. For what, he wasn't sure himself.  
  
It had begun to drizzle, the cold drops of water bordering on hail and rain, and still his cries never abated. He had not even left his position after an hour, and continued to cling to his older companion, gaze never leaving his pale face, as if by will alone he could bring him back to life once again or at least change what had happened.  
  
'Perhaps,' Omri thought, 'he wanted to die as well.'  
  
A foolish move, but what could he expect of humans? People do foolish things when their emotions get in the line. He had even come to expect this of others, but somehow, he was disappointed that this boy was just like all the rest.  
  
'What a waste of great potential.' It was a pity that he had come to like the boy in the short time he had been with him.  
  
He had been turning around, about ready to give up on the boy ever recovering, when it suddenly happened.  
  
"Thank you."  
  
It was spoken clearly, lucidly, despite the fact that his voice was roughened by the recent abuse it had gone through.  
  
The blond froze in his movements, and slowly turned back to face the kid. It was the first time he had the chance of looking closely at the young one, and despite the little lighting provided for by the heavens, had no problem scrutinizing him from head to toe.  
  
Amethyst eyes were what first pinned his glance. They were like the priceless and most beautiful of jewels -expressive, deep, and wholly captivating. Intelligence and curiosity shined through the grief and pain in them, instead of what he had originally feared to find there: dull acceptance of death. In a flash of insight, he knew that this was the one who had called for him tonight, the voice he had heard and followed.  
  
The next thing he noticed was the chestnut hair that fell in a somewhat rumpled braid down his back. It shined with such marvelous shades of the earth from the deepest browns to ones with the lightest kiss of gold, that to simply call it chestnut is not enough. Add that to the rest of his fragile features, from his heart-shaped face, though smudged with dirt and grime, to his little point of a nose, and Omri could easily see the innocence and kindness the boy radiated.  
  
It was no wonder the other one had cared for him so.  
  
Shaking his head slightly, he offered him a slight smile, not perturbed in the least when it wasn't returned. "It was nothing."  
  
"It was everything to me."  
  
"I understand."  
  
Those amethyst eyes quickly looked up at him, and he caught a faint hint of surprise there. He supposed he wasn't one of those people who consoled others saying that everything would be alright, even when they already knew it wouldn't be.  
  
He would not lie about such things -it never was in him to lie-, and he would not hide things from him, knowing that there wasn't much he could shield him from in this world anymore. The child in his eyes had been forced to grow up too soon, too fast, and he would treat him as he would treat any adult. It was for the best.  
  
And he knew that his efforts were appreciated.  
  
Funny how those eyes reminded him of someone from his past. A flash of someone with silver hair that fell just above his hips, anguished golden eyes staring at the two dead forms of his only family. And Omri closed his own golden eyes. It was enough that he had survived. Remembering things would do nothing to help him at this point. Not when he had someone to help now.  
  
"Tell me kid, what's your name?"  
  
"Duo. Duo Maxwell."  
  
"Maxwell? Wasn't that the name of the church?"  
  
"Yeah. We all took it for our last name. Father said it was okay since we can't remember ours."  
  
"Indeed? It must have been interesting."  
  
The rest of the night traveled by in a blur, as the older man learned more about his new companion. After taking care of Solo's body, as Omri later on learned his name was, they had returned to the Maxwell Church and buried the remains of everyone they had been able to find. It had not been easy, but in the end, it had made Duo at peace.  
  
Now, they were resting by a large tree that towered over the graves they had recently made, watching the sky. Omri knew that time was slowly running out. He could already feel the sun peeking in just above the horizon, and knew that he had better move fast before the townspeople noticed his presence. But he had no intention of leaving Duo alone. He had decided sometime during their talks that he wanted him for his companion. He had been far too lonely in his short life, and wasn't about to let go the only friend he had found in all these time. The only thing he needed was his agreement.  
  
"Do you believe in vampyres?" 5  
  
The child in him looked confused for a moment, before thinking the question over. He was probably used to his topic-changes by now.  
  
Just what were vampyres? Duo knew he had heard that foreign word just recently, something about the unsolved deaths of people that had started about three years ago. Ah! That was what they called it - the undead. How someone would just sneak by an unsuspecting victim late at night and then drain his blood.  
  
It must have been a horrible feeling. Duo shuddered. From what he heard from the elders of the town, a demon must be using it to help revive himself and hide himself among mortals.  
  
"I don't think so. Because if I believed in them, then it would be like saying that I believe in immortality. And Death is the only thing I believe in." He tilted his head back, watching the other's reaction closely, and upon finding none, continued in his soft, quiet voice. "Everybody dies sooner or later, right?"  
  
Omri was stunned. The child truly had matured overnight, it seemed. And while his belief in the inevitability of death was acceptable, given what had just happened, the older man found himself laughing for no apparent reason.  
  
"Come, child." He abruptly stood up, stretched sore limbs, and held out his hand in front of a stunned Duo. "I'll show you just what death really is."  
  
It took the braided boy only a few seconds of thinking before he hesitantly reached for the hand and allowed himself to be hauled up.  
  
A second later, the two figures standing by the large oak tree vanished from sight, the rustling of the breeze the only faint indication that they had been at that spot only a moment ago.

* * *

"Wufei."  
  
Reluctantly, he opened his eyes once more upon hearing that voice, obsidian seeking light-blue for reassurance.  
  
Krishna smiled and squeezed his hand in return. He still found it amazing after all these years how great the proud young warrior had changed. And now, he was afraid of what would happen when he forced Wufei to return once more to his old ways.  
  
"It's about the prophesy, isn't it," the raven-haired man whispered, surprising the older one. Of course he knew. Wufei always knew things like that.  
  
Krishna nodded. Secretly though, he was mightily proud of the young man in his arms. The warrior inside the boy knew what to do; the husband in him knew it must be done, no matter how he hated it.  
  
At least now, the most pressing problem is done and dealt with, thankfully with no complications.  
  
Darker days were descending more quickly than he had anticipated, and they must be prepared to fight against it, at all costs.

* * *

1. I'm sorry for messing up Duo's history!!! I do realize that this isn't what happened in his Episode Zero, but this was done for a reason! I mean, during those times (waaay back in the past) it would be harder to explain something like a "planned plague" to drive people out rather than intentionally starting a fire, you know. So sorry again!  
  
2. This will be explained in a little while for those who are confused.  
  
3. Krishna, also known as Shree Krishna is a known Hindu god. He is most often described in the Ramayana (a Hindu play) as a handsome, flute- carrying man, who often helps righteous people, rights the evils and does justice to the wrong-doers.  
  
4. Avatar (from the Hindu religion) - resurrection form of a god  
  
Krishna is said to be the eighth Avatar of Vishnu (the Preserver), which means that when a part of Vishnu was reborn on the eighth time, he took on the form of Krishna. I'm not quite sure on how it goes, but Vishnu would still be present (and still be the same god), even when Krishna and all the rest of his forms are born. Get it? I know I'm confused. But that's how it is.  
  
Meiran then, as an Avatar of Krishna, would be in a sense his reincarnation form, making her divine and near-godly as well. That would then explain why she also plays the flute!!! And her powers!!!  
  
5. Old term, old spelling of vampires. 


	5. Mark of Death part 2

For the full notes and disclaimer, please refer to the first page or chapter.

Additional notes: I do hope no one gets offended by anything I say here. This is fiction, though I do put some effort into making things as historically probable as possible. (Though the latter chapters are anything but 'historically probable'!) I do not intend to make fun of, nor antagonize any specific race in what I write.

'blah' – internal thoughts

blah - shift in scenes / perspectives

The Chronicle of Abaddon

--- First Blood ---

Identification of the Mark

"So the Lord put a mark on Cain, lest anyone should kill him at sight" - Genesis 4:15

:::: Mark of Death ::::

It was raining that night.

Indeed, it had been particularly cold and dreary the entire morning, so it should come as no surprise that the heavens finally opened up and heaved its bursting contents to the ground below.

Perhaps, it did come as no surprise to most mortals who had the entire day to simply watch and forecast the coming dreadful weather. But for one who had woken up and gotten out just as the sun was giving off its last rays, the sudden downpour had been entirely unexpected.

It was just as well that Duo went out that particular night to go traipsing into the nearby town. And it was just his luck that he did not give a second thought in bringing any umbrella with him this time. He thoroughly detested the bulky things, since it hinders him from moving freely within the crowd, his street-sense and thieving instincts not completely wiped from him. If it was possible, he left them behind as much as his mentor would allow it.

Well, actually, he most of the time simply skirted around the issue and sneaked out to avoid the topic of bringing umbrellas altogether.

Now, he cursed his lack of foresight, as the braided child trudged through the wet streets, huddling closer to his coat, in a futile attempt to warm himself. He was thoroughly drenched, and was shivering badly that the fear of dying from hypothermia crossed his mind more than once.

'_Thankfully, at least home's close enough...'_ Duo thought as he rounded one more street and continued to walk onwards.

Home... That was something he never thought about before, much less hoped for. But Omri changed all of that when he took the orphaned nobody and bought him to his care in his lavish mansion. 1

While he had a hard time accepting the gift for what it truly was, Duo was now learning to trust the older man, and even reciprocate his care. It was a hard struggle for both of them, but he was young and had all the time in the world to adjust to his new surroundings, while Omri had the abounding patience and understanding that the street-child needed to be able to take the first steps towards friendship... and more.

What that 'more' was, Duo had absolutely no idea. It was just a feeling that he sometimes got from his mentor. Not that he feared that 'more' would be a negative experience for him, rather, it just seemed as if Omri was merely waiting for things to happen according to his plan instead of rushing him, and Duo was a bit impatient about it. He wanted that 'more' already!

Sometimes, despite his denial of it, his true age does come out – once in a while.

He was merely nine years of age.

A year since Omri had taken him as his ward.

Absorbed as he was in his thoughts of how much had changed in such a short span of time, Duo took no heed of his surroundings, and simply let his feet guide him on the well-known path towards his place.

* * *

On the other side of the street the young boy was about to turn to, a drunken old man in his late forties was swaying unsteadily on his feet, occasionally enlisting the help of the cool stone walls to aid him in his standing. He wore the ragged clothing of the homeless, a dirty scarf and worn mittens with holes on them the only combat he had for the cold weather. Gray hair prematurely aged from the strain of his condition and environment peeked from under a hastily stuffed and equally worn bonnet. His beady dark eyes, glazed with the cold and a hint of coming sickness was probably his only recognizable feature from the countless others who wandered the streets. Everything about him seemed as drab and dreary as his surroundings, matching the two of them perfectly such that when he stopped moving for a while to reorient himself, it seemed from a distance that he was merely a lumpy part of the stone wall.

That was until he started hacking and coughing. The movement trembled his slim frame, and consciously he put up a hand to his mouth in an attempt to stop his coughing feat. After a moment, the ordeal ended and left the man with cold sweat from the effort. Sighing, he lowered his left hand, never noticing the bright red stain that now colored part of his worn mitten. For a moment, the splash of blood in his hand was the only color he had.

With a grunt of determination, the man got back to his feet and started to half-stumble and half-walk towards the turn around the building, only to nearly hit the pavement as a child bumped into him by the corner. Instinctively raising his hand to catch the nearest hold he could, he grasped the shoulder of the little one, and managed to eventually steady himself. Mumbling nearly incoherently about children nowadays and the lack of respect they had for their elders, the two parted ways.

That was the last anyone ever saw about that man. Two days later, his body was found along an alley, slumped with one hand still covering his mouth. The bright red stain of blood was the only color he had left to differentiate him from the grey surroundings. 2

* * *

Absently saying some sort of apology to the man he had bumped along his way, Duo mindlessly continued walking, not realizing that his right hand had gripped his left shoulder instinctively to check for signs of bruising or injury. Encountering nothing save for some sticky fluid, the young boy merely assumed that it had been a result of walking outside. Afterall, one can never be too sure of what fluid are dripping on you, especially near the roof of some of the ill-reputed households – rain or no rain. 3

He continued walking.

* * *

The soft snick of the lock momentarily had Duo hoping that his absence had not been noticed by the strangely-protective Omri. That was before he turned around to be nearly smacked head to chest by said self-appointed protector.

"You're wet. And shivering."

Well, the astute observation pushed to one side for the moment, the braided youth breathed a sigh of relief as he recognized the signs his older companion exuded. He was merely concerned, and not angry with him for sneaking off to parts unknown again without his approval or knowledge. And of course, without that thrice-damned bulky apparel called an umbrella.

With an impish grin tinged with a hint of guilt and embarrassment, Duo rubbed a finger to his nose, as was his wont when he knew he was at fault and yet was stalling for time to avoid having to apologize. If Omri was Solo or anyone part of the gang, he would have immediately pounced on this, and drawn out the apology for all it was worth. Thankfully, he was just Omri, adoptive parent extraordinaire, and he let Duo have all the time he needed to formulate a response.

That was, until Duo's eyes grew wide with shock.

In front of his slitted golden eyes, the silver-haired man saw his ward raise a trembling finger to his nose, sniff it, then stare at said finger in apparent rapt fascination. He was about to wonder if this was the youth's new method of escaping the elder's wrath, when he was hit with the smell that so shocked Duo.

Blood.

Omri wasn't even aware if he had spoken it out loud or if Duo had. All he knew was that suddenly, the two of them were staring at each other, both immobile and shocked for the moment. Duo, because it brought back year-old memories of Solo's dead body and the tragedy of that day. Omri, because he had not had a decent warm meal ever since his young ward agreed to come with him. It had been too much of a risk at that time, especially when the townspeople were becoming wary of leaving their homes at the dark of the night.

Then, a second realization hit the two at almost the same time.

It wasn't Duo's blood.

The relief that sang through them was almost palpable in the sudden stillness of the room.

Duo would know if it was his especially since he had automatically checked his shoulder after his impact with that homeless man, and Omri would know since he had practically imprinted into his very essence the scent of the young blood beating within the veins of his ward. He would have been instantly alert, had he smelled Duo's blood, the moment Duo entered their home. As it was, the stench was old, faint, and somewhat erased by the tangy smell of the rain. But Omri thought that he detected a hint of sickness in that blood.

He forgot all about it however, in his haste to catch the braided child's body as it sagged bonelessly in relief.

All that mattered now was that Duo was taken care of before he froze to death.

* * *

The sun was shining bright and early for a change, a rare thing indeed especially considering the turning of the climate from the mild wintry gale of autumn to the harsh winds of hail and snow of winter. And so, just like most of the townsfolk this day, a braided-haired child ventured out of a simple yet well-maintained home into the invigorating heat of the day. While he was very fond of the nighttime surroundings, sometimes people just have to get the maximum effect of a beautiful day, and he knew that he wouldn't achieve that goal should he decide to stay inside the entire time.

With a loud whoop of laughter, a certain Duo Maxwell ran out into the streets, taking full advantage of a dry and puddle-less road to play around and run full tilt without fear of slipping on something you couldn't very well see in the dark. It had been an incredibly long time since he had had the luxury of just playing, and while he would have normally missed his once-companions, Duo had decided that today would be a day of no regrets.

Well, except for one thing. It was too bad that Omri was still sleeping in the house. He had arrived late last night, well into the morning pre-dawn hours indeed, so the young child was loath to wake him, even if that meant that he got to enjoy the beauty of Earth alone.

And so, on the sixth week since they had found the startling evidence of someone else's blood on Duo's sleeve, nothing could be seen out of the ordinary in the young child. That is, if one considered his playing in broad daylight not strange in its own right.

Nothing out of the ordinary indeed, until well after the lunch hours.

He had forgotten to take his lunch in his enjoyment, and when he realized that he was feeling a bit of cramp in his stomach, it was already too late. He was too far from his home to simply remedy the situation, which was made worse by the light-headedness he was suddenly experiencing.

'Not now', Duo reprimanded himself, even as he slumped on a wall, panting and very much in pain that he could barely see. There had been a time more than a year ago, when a lost meal would hardly be new to him and thus would barely register on his body as pain. But, if this sickness was of any indication to Duo, it showed him just how much he had changed, just how much he had adapted to a sheltered and well-provided for life. And it frightened him to be rendered so useless by a hunger that had been his waking companion for as long as he could remember. For so long until Omri had taken him out of the streets.

It had been like this for close to a full week already, and while normally Duo would ignore such things thinking them a weakness he could not show anybody, he had had over a year of the knowledge that he was not alone being pounded into his brain by his mentor to do better than keep quiet about this. As it was, Omri was already suspicious that he had preferred to stay at home three days out of five, when he would normally chafe at such a restriction on his senses.

"All because some antisocial guardian needs to be kept company", he had said earlier when Omri had attempted to question him about his rapid shift in behavior. And though it was in part true, – the elder was rubbing off his traits already, damnit! – he had been feeling a bit of malaise, to realize that venturing out in that condition in the deep of the night was something akin to suicide. Well, that and he really was feeling not too good.

Indeed, he was not feeling all that well early on, but the bright rays of a sun rarely seen in these parts had beckoned to him, called to him much like a siren calls to a ship. And he had responded to that call instinctually, much to his chagrin now. He should have known better than to do things when he was not at his best.

It must be a fever, Duo reasoned, back with his thoughts on the wall by a side street that bright sunny morning.

Strange though that in all his formative years, he had never gotten sick over something so mundane as a weather change. 'Ah well', he shrugged. 'Must be one of those new changes a sheltered life gives.'

Wiping a hand to his sweat-filled brow, he took a deep breath and mustered up the energy he knew he would need in order to reach the house in one piece. The distance between this point in the wall to the sanctuary Omri's house had turned out to be had never been farther in his young mind, than today.

And as he slowly and carefully traced back his steps towards his mentor, Duo never truly realized until much later how he had instinctually suppressed a wet cough from getting out of his system. Afterall, that would broadcast to the whole place just how sick he was feeling, and that was something any sensible person living for long in this place learned to never do.

Omri might have taken the street rat out of the streets, but he could never fully take out the street in a once-street rat.

Its instincts afterall had allowed him to survive for so long in this harsh world.

* * *

"Are you sure you are not going to eat that?", the silver-haired man asked his younger companion, his golden eyes slitted with full-blown suspicion.

While he could let his unusual behavior this past few days pass, this was just too much of a coincidence. If there was anything Omri had learned of his protégé, it was that a child of the streets never left anything remotely edible on his plate. Never. It could never be predicted afterall when the next meal would arrive, and until then it was better to have a full stomach.

And so, Duo not eating everything that had been put on his plate that day, already much less than the volume he normally consumed, was lighting up every internal alarm the blond possessed.

Something was definitely wrong, and he would find out about it before he left tonight.

A sentiment, his braided charge apparently shared.

After the meal that was unsuccessfully left in pretty much the same state it had been when it first touched Duo's plate, the young boy decisively put down the now not-so-strange utensils Omri had to teach him to use, and looked at the older man with something akin to seriousness in his expressive amethyst eyes.

"I.........", repressing another cough, he turned to the side, unable to meet fully that concerned golden gaze. "I.........", Duo worked on his mouth, but no other words seemed to want to come out of it.

Frustrated, a hand curled up into a fist and punched his thigh under the table. The brief pain momentarily jolted him, and he once again looked at the mentor who meant the world to him. Yes, he trusted him with his life, but - No, he didn't want to worry him needlessly for something that would eventually go away.

There was no need to tell him about a simple fever and cold, now was there?

Duo ducked his head again, and blushed lightly under Omri's scrutiny.

There was no need.

"I think I'm just full today. Because when I went outside, there was this confectionary stand by the store at Delia's, and the smell was so good and it looked so nice to eat, that I wasn't able to resist buying a few of those with the money that you gave me, and I ate a lot of it before coming home, so I'm really sorry though I know that your food is great and all, but I really can't stomach anymore before I burst, yanno –"

And so he covered it up by his usual chatter, relief pouring out of him when he saw that though Omri's questioning eyes never left his decidedly pale skin, he did not push him any further.

There indeed had been a confectionary store by Delia's, and he did buy a few of those with the money Omri gave him, but Duo saw no need to tell that he hadn't eaten that much. Not too much that he couldn't eat any of his mentor's decidedly good cooking.

He was getting too good at this not-lying-but-twisting-the-truth-around-a-bit farce. And it would probably hurt Omri to realize that he had been the one to teach the younger boy that particular technique. Afterall, it is often said that the best lie is something that has a hint of truth to it.

And so he covered it up, and not knowing any better, his mentor let him.

* * *

After that minor debacle, Duo was always careful to eat and fully finish everything that was offered onto his plate, regardless of whether he could stomach it at a later time. He was so careful in fact that eventually Omri seemed to drop his strange behavior a week past, and they went back to their normal routine.

Only, Duo stayed longer inside the house than outside of it, playing around, entertaining the other man with his innocent antics.

A week had passed, and on the seventh week since they had discovered someone else's blood on Duo's person, the young boy could hide no longer the cough that seemed to erupt inside him every so often.

He certainly could not hide the evidence of those recurrent coughs bringing back blood to his lips, staining them a rougish sickly shade of red.

And he certainly could not avoid it when he was found an hour later, just as the sun had set, by a frantic Omri, passed out cold on the steps just outside the door of the house, slightly shivering from the bout of chills and sweat that had accosted his body, a tad feverish, and most damning of all, a hand outstretched on the knob of the door stained with blood.

He was sick, and it wasn't going away any time soon. And Omri knew about it now. 4

* * *

He moaned when he first came to.

He honestly couldn't help it, even if he did wince at how weak and pathetic he sounded at that time. His chest seemed to be on fire, and each and every breath he took reminded him of knives stuck in his lungs, rasping on it, tearing into it with pain. He coughed once again and his slim form shook with his efforts.

Gasping at the additional pain that little adventure had cost him, he lay back on the sweat-stained bed he now realized was his own, not realizing the blood that was left on his lips until a pale hand wiped it away for him.

Bright fevered eyes, glazed slightly with an indication of his fatigue and pain, looked up and locked onto grim golden ones.

And Duo felt moisture gathering in his eyes, refusing to fall only by his sheer pride. He had hurt Omri; he knew it even if the older teen did not speak of it. He hurt him now with the presence of a sickness they both knew no ordinary human could heal him from. He hurt him when he had first hidden his sickness from him.

And now, Duo was hurting because he knew when he looked at that helpless loving gaze, that Omri would do anything to save him, and all he ever did was hurt the other man.

He did not deserve this much kindness.

"I – I'm sorry........."

And still, Omri smiled for him, hushing him gently lest he further exhaust himself.

"There is nothing to be sorry about, little one. You did not plan on any of this."

Indeed, Duo didn't. But he still felt guilty for causing so much pain.........

"Just rest Duo. I'll take care of you. Trust me."

And trust he did. With a small whimper of need, the braided child tucked himself into the warm embrace his guardian provided for him, and drifted back into an uneasy sleep.

He did not wake the rest of the night.

Even as his coughing grew worse, even as his breathing grew more labored, even as his sweating and chills racked his thin body he trusted in Omri and let himself sleep. He did not wake to see the slitted gaze of his mentor turn a dark amber hue as he bit into a pale wrist none too gently, the bright stain of blood on those porcelain surface beckoning anyone. He did not feel it as his slack mouth was gently pried open wider, and he was allowed to suck a bit of the blood Omri had produced just for him.

He did not realize it when his body slowly fought off the infection, slowly healed itself and became stronger, just altering enough of his system to become less susceptible to any future sickness. He did not realize it when his body acted of its own instinct and hungrily sucked more of that precious blood, unwilling to part from the delicious taste, hands grasping and reaching for more when his guardian withdrew his wrist.

He was not awake enough to feel the slight kiss that was bestowed on his forehead when the other believed that his sickness had abated enough for him to finally earn his rest that day.

All Duo was really aware of was that he woke up the next day, bright and early as it was, feeling better than he had in this lifetime.

He felt safe and warm, and looking to his side confirmed for him the purely unconscious knowledge that Omri was laying by his side asleep and dead to the world of sunshine outside.

* * *

1 Lavish mansion in this case would be a matter of whose point of view you are talking about. Since it's Duo's, it means a house properly taken care of, not dilapidated in any sense, and has a complete set of rooms, windows and roof. Remember that Duo used to live on the streets. This is a matter of perspective.

2 Cause of death: tuberculosis (10 points for those who guessed -) This, at least in the anime setting, is probably one of the most common causes of death back then. Personally, it greatly annoys me to see my favorite characters die because of it (Okita Souji!!!) Well, now there goes the plague out to get Duo. XD

3 Ahh. England during these times. Historically speaking, cleanliness had never been much of a factor to them till the Bubonic plague hit them.

4 And of course, Duo had now been infected by tuberculosis. It is a kind of respiratory sickness that is transmitted through the air from exposure to germs in the saliva of an infected person and sputum coughed up from their lungs. Signs and symptoms of it which include a cough lasting 3 or more weeks that may produce discolored or bloody sputum, unintended weight loss, fatigue, slight fever, night sweats, chills, loss of appetite, and pain with breathing or coughing, may manifest 2-8 weeks after you are infected. Though not everyone is infected with this sickness (around 90 remain well), those with a weakened immune system are especially prone to this.

Though don't question me with how Duo got a weakened immune system, when we all know that he is probably one of those with the strongest immune systems in the world to survive the L2 plague. Probably a result of that pampered life he had been living! -

Anyhow, don't look to deep into it. I just wanted him to get sick with some kind of plague!

Now, if anyone bothers asking me why it almost always rains in this setting, just remember that this occurs way back in the past, and it was a whole lot cooler and mistier then, hence the tendency to rain. Besides, rain is such a good backdrop for scenes that need to be "dark" enough! -;;;

And how is it so far??? You know I got more reviews for this thing 2 years ago before I took it down and revised it......... Need to have more feedback if anybody is reading this. -


End file.
